***
Two days later, Marian sat beside Renee, reading a book with her daughter when her servant, Edward, walked in the room. She glanced up.
“Yes?”
“A Layla DuChampe is here to see you,” he said.
A tremor of fear swept through her. What did the woman accused of Jean’s murder want with her? While she didn’t know if the young woman had actually killed Jean, she didn’t want her visiting them at home.
“Renee, Momma has to see someone. Why don’t you run upstairs and play with your dolls for a while?”
The girl frowned. “Why can’t I stay?”
“Because this is grown-up talk. Now go on upstairs and we’ll finish reading later.”
“All right,” she said, her face drawn in a pout. The little girl trudged up the stairs, expressing her dislike by stomping on every step.
Marian stepped into the entry hall where Edward had left Layla standing. Most of their guests he would have shown into the parlor, but obviously he knew of Miss DuChampe and had left her standing in the hall.
“Miss DuChampe,” Marian said, her voice coolly receptive.
The young woman stood there looking nervous, with a canvas bag in her hand. Marian recognized the worn sailor’s bag as Jean’s.
“I’m sorry for coming without sending you notice, but I feared you wouldn’t see me.”
“Yes, I understand,” Marian said, not denying that she would have refused to see the woman. There was no reason to see her again and, though she felt sorry for the young woman, she wanted nothing more to do with her. Just as she wanted nothing more to do with Nicole.
She held up the bag. “I’ve brought you some of Jean’s things that I thought you might want back. Or at least his children might someday want. I had my servant send them from Baton Rouge.”
Marian took the bag out the girl’s hand, a feeling of gratitude at her thoughtfulness making her uneasy. She didn’t want to feel a sense of obligation toward the girl. Layla had slept with Marian’s husband. A husband who hadn’t wanted his own wife. “Thank you.”
Marian knew she was being rude though somehow she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“Could we sit and talk for a moment?” Layla asked. “I know you don’t want to have anything to do with me. But this may be my only chance to explain my side of things to you,” Layla said, her voice strong and sure.
Marian frowned. “I’m not sure I want to know your side. I’m trying to put the past behind me. Jean is dead and I’m ready to move on with my life.”
“At least you have your life. Mine could end very soon, so I’d like to at least attempt to tell you what happened,” Layla said, her voice insistent as she stepped toward Marian.
Marian felt a chill go through her at the girl’s solemn acceptance of her likely fate.
“Let’s go into the parlor where we can talk privately. I’m trying to protect my children as much as possible from hearing the details of their father’s deceit. Already, my son has been involved in fights at school and I just hope this all ends very soon.”
“I understand,” Layla said, and followed Marian into the parlor.
Marian shut the door behind them, pointed to the loveseat and then took a seat across from the girl in the wingback chair. Normally, she would have offered her guest something to drink, but she wanted Layla to leave as quickly as possible.
They sat there awkwardly, staring at one another. Layla glanced around the room, her hands folded in her lap shook slightly. She turned her gaze to Marian. “You have a nice home.”
“Thank you.”
Layla sighed. “I want you to know I did not kill Jean. I could never deliberately harm another person. I couldn't do it.” She took a deep breath. “Also, I didn’t know that he was married. I never loved him and didn’t want to marry him.”
“Then why did you?” Marian asked leaning forward, the girl’s comments angering her. Why did she still feel anger, when she herself had not loved Jean for years?
Jean’s betrayal was more about Marian’s pride than love, she suddenly realized. By ignoring her as his wife, she felt less valued and that had hurt. Then, finding out he had married two other women magnified the pain of his disregard.
“My father arranged my marriage to him. It seemed that Cuvier Shipping had taken away all of my father’s business, causing him to go bankrupt. Jean acquired Father’s company with the agreement that he would marry me.”
“But if your father knew Jean, surely he realized Jean was already married. Granted I didn’t go out much, but I would have thought people would know of Jean’s wife and children.”
Layla shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “My father asked and Jean told him that you died of yellow fever and that the children moved to Virginia to be with your family.”
“What a liar!” Marian said. “And your father believed him? What if you and Jean had run into someone we both knew?”
“Normally, Jean never let me travel with him or leave the city, except for this trip, which I don't understand.” She paused reflecting for a moment, then shook her head as if to clear it. “My father died several months ago, so he never learned of Jean’s lies.”
Silence filled the room as Marian contemplated this new bit of information regarding her former husband. “You know, the sad thing is that he ruined so many lives around him with his lying ways.”
Layla nodded. “I know it looks very bad for me. Many people believe I killed him. I hated him and never wanted to marry him.” She lifted her chin. “No matter what, I would never have harmed him.”
“But who could have killed him?” Marian asked. “Someone did.”
“I wish I knew. He was poisoned. Someone had to have done it in the night.”
“But didn’t you give him the laudanum? Isn’t that why they suspect you?” Marian asked.
Layla glanced down. “Yes. I often put laudanum in his nightly drink to avoid being . .. intimate with him.” She looked at Marian and shivered. “I’m sorry, maybe you enjoyed being with him, but I despised the act. I couldn’t stand him touching me any longer.”
“I would never describe Jean as a kind or patient lover.”
Layla shivered with revulsion. “I never want to have a man touch me again.”
Marian wanted to tell the young woman that not all lovers were like Jean, but decided to keep that piece of information to herself. Layla’s feelings were reminiscent of her own emotions regarding Jean. Yet the woman’s words again confirmed her beliefs that the problem was with Jean and not with herself. She hoped someday Layla would learn this lesson.
“Layla, just remember that every man is not like Jean. I know it’s hard to realize that at this time, but there are a lot of good men in the world who would never treat a woman the way we’ve been treated.”
She shook her head, her expression bleak. “It won’t matter. I’ll never get the chance to find out about them. If I’m convicted, I will receive the death penalty and I'll hang.”
Silence filled the room as Marian gazed at the young girl, sympathy swelling within her. “I’m going to hope that somehow the real killer is found and you are released.”
“I hope so. Right now I’m not holding out any hope. It’s so much easier for the papers to condemn me, than to think that someone else could have done this.”
Wronged (Book 1) Page 42